


Spanking The Zombie

by fullonzombae



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild BDSM, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullonzombae/pseuds/fullonzombae
Summary: Liv Moore has been a bad zombie. A very bad zombie. And personally, she thinks Clive should punish her for it.





	Spanking The Zombie

"Someone's asking to be punished."

Clive's head snapped up at Liv's words, before a sigh escaped his lips. Not today. No, he hardly needed to feel like Liv was coming on to him, not today. But the whip that had yet to stray from her hand did nothing but inspire him.

"Is it you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he paced the room. Oh, he had ideas how he'd do it. He'd had more ideas than he cared to admit, and those thoughts were only heightened by this room. He'd start off mild enough; placing Liv over his knee, bringing his hand down over her backside with a sharp crack. She had certainly caused enough trouble over the years to justify this. He walked over to her, taking the whip from her hand, his gaze locked on hers.

"Once you're off the brains," he started as he tossed the whip onto the bed, "then we are talking about this. You can't threaten me with whips, chains, paddles, gimp masks or whatever."

He noticed how Liv's eyebrow arched and cursed, knowing the thoughts that were going through her mind long before the words left her lips.

"Well, Detective Babineaux. You certainly seem to know a lot about the way of the dominant." A smirk, and Clive let out a sigh, turning his back on her. "Not one of her regulars, were you?"

"You'd know about it by now if I was," Clive replied, pulling out his phone to check for messages. "Coming?" He turned back long enough to see Liv cast a mournful look around the room.

* * *

 

In the days after the case, Clive waited for the brains to wear off, waited for Liv to stop throwing her orders about. That she had turned up to the office in a skirt that left little to the imagination truly didn't help, and he made his excuses to leave her behind as he hurried off to the bathroom to relieve himself. Christ, the thought of Liv over his knee was one that hadn't subsided, but how the hell could he broach such a subject.

_"About that brain, Liv. Could we find you a subby one? It would suit me so much more."_

HR would have a field day with that one.

She was waiting by his desk as Clive returned. Or more specifically, on his desk. Clive cast a look around the office, before letting out a sigh of irritation. "Liv, the fuck you doing?" he hissed, strolling over to his chair. He cast a glance over her crossed legs, finally realising that her usual tights had been replaced with stockings.

She was trying to call him. There was a reason that the French word for orgasm literally translated into 'little death'. It was clearly inspired by Liv Moore.

Thank fuck the office was empty. It meant no-one else was there to witness Liv's attempts to humiliate him.

"I use traffic lights. Amber for slowing down. Red for stop," she said matter-of-factly, and Clive let out a groan, dragging his hand down his face.

"Liv, what the hell have you eaten this time?"

"This has nothing to do with what I've eaten, " Liv answered, uncrossing her legs. Clive managed to keep his attention from the way her knees parted, managed to avoid the glimpse that she was giving him.

"What makes you think I'd want this?" he asked, folding his arms, and Liv lifted her chin with a knowing smirk upon her face. Damn her. Damn her to Hell. She was doing this on purpose, and Clive only had himself to blame. He had given her the case, and she had figured out a weakness. Or two.

"You said it yourself. It wasn't you asking to be punished." She slid off the desk and turned around, bending over the desk as she looked back at Clive over her shoulder.

Oh no, no, this would not do.

"Promise me this has nothing to do with your lunch," he whispered as he stepped closer. Liv nodded earnestly, holding his gaze.

"This is all me." Her response was as quiet as his, and as she bit her lip, Clive sank into his chair, examining the sight before him with a silent anticipation. She was telling the truth, and he hated how easily she had seen through him.

"Right. Well, that's all well and good. But you're in the wrong position. Entirely."

There was a brattish roll of her eyes, and Clive knew just what kind of sub he was faced with. Undead. And a brat.

"Olivia."

She responded with a wiggle of her hips, and Clive cleared his throat.

"Olivia Moore. You will get on your hands and knees, and you will crawl over here. Now."

Liv let out a groan of frustration, answered by a tapping of Clive's foot.

"And you can drop the attitude. Just because you're undead, do not think I can't make you think of me everytime you sit down. For a week."

Liv crawled over in silence, and Clive brought a hand to rest under her chin, lifting her head so she was looking up at him. A gentle tug, and she pushed herself up onto her knees, looking Clive square in the eyes.

"Are you one hundred percent certain that this is what you want?" Clive asked. He was answered with a nod, and he tugged Liv closer to him, contemplating just how it would feel to press a kiss to her lips, to taste her, just once. He could find out later, but first, he had one small detail to deal with.

"Now. Be a good little bitch, and bring me my gloves."

As Liv stood, Clive cleared his throat loudly, an eyebrow raised as Liv turned to face him.

" _Crawl_ , Olivia."

She dropped to her knees and crawled over to Clive's desk, before returning with his gloves between her teeth. As she dropped the gloves onto his lap, Clive reached down to run a hand through her hair. Liv pushed herself up onto her knees and draped herself over Clive's lap, her rump raised, her head lowered. Tugging on the gloves, Clive cast a glance over the sight of Liv over his lap, trying to subdue his own arousal for long enough to deal with her punishment.

"Now. Do you know why I have to punish you, Liv?" he asked as he slid her skirt up, exposing her backside. He smoothed a hand over her skin, before tugging down her panties. He focused on the milky expanse of skin, wondering just how it would feel to press his lips against her, savouring the taste.

"Because I attempted to dominate you at a crime scene." The tone of Liv's voice resembled that of a child that had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and Clive smiled slightly, amused by her mock remorse. It was a tone he hoped he hadn't heard the last of, and he brushed a thumb over her left buttock. "I made the mistake of thinking I could throw my weight about, when I really can't."

"Attagirl," he whispered, his tone a little more approving. "But don't think you get off lightly, just because you can tell me what you did wrong." Clive tilted his head, carefully considering his punishment. "Twenty. I think that's sufficient enough to warn you _not_ to try it again."

"Twenty's too many."

"You don't get a say, Liv. It's a punishment, not a treat." He smoothed his hand over her left buttock, before raising it and bringing it down on her skin with a crack. "Count them."

The first five, Liv counted out with a clarity that told Clive she could bear the pain. A clarity that told him he could go harder. He smoothed his hand over the slightly reddened expanse of skin, before bringing his hand down harder, firmer, and enough to cause Liv to cry out slightly in shock.

"...Six... Seven..."

Her teeth were clenched slightly, but she was suitably relaxed. Clive smoothed his hand over the back of her thighs, examining the damage with a look of approval, before bringing his hand down on her left buttock three more times. The small gasps that followed were enticement, encouragement, and Clive shifted his weight, hoping to hide the effect that this scene was having on him.

He moved his hand over to her right buttock, this time, his hand coming down quickly upon her skin. The twelfth swat was counted out with what could only be described as a moan, and Clive laughed, no longer trying to hide his amusement. That he had been transparent enough for Liv to see she could submit to him, that she was clearly enjoying this, more than she should be...

The next four blows were dragged out, each one followed by a gentle caress to the skin, that bittersweet contrast of a stinging sensation and the tenderness of a gloved hand running over the crimson patches of her buttocks. Perhaps the contrast itself was more sadistic than anything else, Clive thought as his thumb trailed circles on Liv's skin, before bringing his hand down a further four times, enough that he could finally feel his own hand begin to sting.

Resting his hand on Liv's backside, Clive leaned back, a look of smug satisfaction upon his face. He ran his hand over the skin, before slowly dragging it down between Liv's legs. "Sit up," he whispered, removing his hand and slipping off his glove. He watched as Liv pushed herself back onto her knees, then stood, before turning and sitting on his lap. As she pressed against him, Clive wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, a smile settling on his lips. "Now. I hope you're capable of behaving, Ms Moore. Because there's plenty more where that came from."


End file.
